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POEIMB, 



— BY — 



CHARLES WIIITTAKEll 




PHILADELPHIA : 

J. NICHOLAS. PRINTER, 310 CHESTNl'T ^T, 

1863. 



PREFACE* 



Opt when the torrid glare of Southern skies, 
Was tempered by the approaching shades of even, 
Have I, alone in pensive mood, strayed forth, 
And left the busy camp with all its hum 
And never ending din of work and play, 
And sought some still retreat upon the verge 
Of flowing stream, or in the friendly shade 
Of forest old — to dream of home and friends — 
Themes oftenest thought of, dearest to my heart — ■ 
For doomed by fate romantic to endure 
A silence, lengthy as my stay from home. 
Unbroken by that messenger of love — 
The written page, penned by some gentle hand, 
That ever took delight in works of love, 
I could do naught but think and dream and hope, 
And what I mused or thought I often wrote, 
And thus this book was made. It is a proof 
Of the afiection strong I have for you, 
My friends. As such receive it ; and if we 
Should sit together on some future day, 
And turn its leaves, it may perchance recall 
* "Scenes else forgotten — scenes of other days^ 
When distant from you, telling how I loved 
To think of you, and how I longed again 
To meet you, as of yore, with joy at home* 



CONTENTS. 



Thoughts of Home, - ► - - 7-9 

Oq the Death of my Sister Hannah, - 10 

Summer Walks, 11, 12 

The Winter King, - - - - 13-20 

We May Rise Again, - - - - 21, 22 

To Ellen, ----- 23 

God Manifest in His Works, - - 24-26 

The Battle Field of Newbern, - - 27-33 

A Picture, 34, 35 

Thanks, 36,37 

Good-bye, 38 

Our Chaplain, - - - - , 39-41 

The Angel of Hope, - - - - 42, 43 

Be Kind, 44 

Rain, - - - - - - 45, 46 

The Watchers, - . - - 47, 48 

Before the Battle, ... - 49-52 

The Flag, 53,54 

Soldier's Career, 55 

To Lake Michigan, - - - - 56~.5:8 



f HOUaflTS O?" HOMa 



My thoughts are wandering far to-night, 
From the scenes in which I dwell ; 

And dreams of the past, with its days of lights 
Have bound my heart with a spell. 

Unheeded, the hours have winged their flight, 

Till my comrades all have gone, 
And left me, here by the camp-fire's light, 

To sit and muse alone. 

Lnd my hea^t goes back to my home in the West;. 

Near the river, winding its slow 
ind peaceful course 'tween verdant hills, 

That cast their shadows below. 

ind there I see with moistened eyes, ' 

Each well remembered face ; 
Ind I hear again the words of love 

I have heard in that dear old plac®. 
1 



My mother is there, with her noble heart, 
Ever anxious our troubles to cheer ; 

She, who hears not e'en of a stranger's woe;, 
But she sheds a silent tear. 

Oh I who has not felt that a mother^s love 

Has been to mortals given, 
As a glimpse of a blessing from above, 

To be perfected in heaven. 

There is a gentle maiden, too. 

The old homestead near by ; 
And the love and truth of her pure young heart 

Beams brightly from her eye. 

And thinking of her, my heart is filled 

With a joy I cannot speak, 
But which murmurs its melody to my soul, 

And thrills the blood in my cheek. 

And there are others dear to me, — 

Yes, many faithful friends, 
Who are living now, in memory, 

Whom I long to see again. 



I 



9 



And I love to sit and think of them, 

As I have done to-night, 
Until I see them all again, 

In memorie's hallowed light. 

And so the hours unheeded have passed, 
Till the camp-fires have smouldered low, 

And the tents peep through the surrounding 
glofe, 
Like hillocks of drifted snow. 



m 



ON THE DEATH OF MY SISTER HANNilH. 



My sister arose from her earthly abode, 

To the home of her Father, to the home of he? 

God; 
She arose like an angel, free and guiltless^ from 

sin ; 
She arose before vice had enclosed her soul in. 
Now, glorious she shines in the h^ne of the blest; \ 
Her bright spirit forever with Jesus doth rest. 
Then, why should we niourn, for this angel so 

bright. 
Although she is gone from our dim earthly 

sight ? • 



n 



BUMMER WALKS, 



Opt when the sun is shiniag * 

Obliquely from the sky ; 
When the day is fast declining, 

And the night is drawing nigh. 

In the stillness of the evening, 
In the silence of the hour. 

When every summer warbler 
Has sought his resting bower,— 

Alone I often wander, 

For I love the solitude ; 
And my soul delights to ponder 

On the works of nature's God. 

I seek the Shady forest, 

Where the day-king enters not. 
And where the tree's tall shadows 

Are in keeping with my thoughts. 



12 



Then I climb unto the summits 
Of the green and grass-clad hills, 

Adown whose sides the summer rains 
Have poured a thousand rills ;. 

And at whose feet the river 

Winds its sullen course and slow, 

Aa onward to its destiny 
Forever it doth flow. 

There is beauty in the picture, 
And when spread before mine eye, 

How oft in pleasant musings 
Pass the happy hours by j 

For the wondrous book of nature, 
For me hath many charms, 

And with humble love, and gratitude, 
My bosom oft it warms. 

Seen in the works of natur^ 
Isthe hand of the Most High, 

And the soul that comprehends them, 
Was never born to die. 



13 



THE WINTER KING. 



Away, near the Arctic pole, 

The Winter King hath his throne, 
And there, amid his icebergs tall, 

He sitteth and ruleth alone. 
Storms, round the monarch old, 

In gusts and eddies sweep , 
And the north wind,' bitter and cold, 

Howls ever at his feet ; 
And the Arctic Night spreads her sable pall 
Of gloom and darkness over all. 

Around, on every side, 

Hummocks of ice, and snow, 
In their cold embraces hide 

The land and the sea below. 
Like giants, through the gloom. 

Fantastic icebergs rise, 
And lift their jagged peaks 

Against the sombre skiey ; 
And the bursting ice sends forth a roar 
That echoes back from the desolate shore. 



14 



This is the land of storms — 

The frost and snow dwell here^. 
And borne on the driving winds, 

They sweep o'er tho region drear. 
In an eternal shroud, 

Of cold and ice and snow, 
Lieth the barren earth, 

And the waters that roll below — 
For the chill of death is on every thing 
In the bleak domain of the Winter King. 

Down from the frozen North, 

The Winter King hath come. 
In his presence the woods are hushed, 

The voices of Summer are dumb ; 
The silvery streamlets fling 

Their spray o^er the pebbles no more, 
And the birds have ceased to sing, 

In the bushes along the shore, 
Forthefrosthath congealed the streamlet'sspray 
And driven the songsters of summer away. 

O'er the meadows hath he passed, 

And ^neath his icy tread. 
He hath bowed the waving grass, 

And it lieth withered and dead^ 



# 



15 

He hath breathed upon the flowers, 

That in their beauty lay, 
And as the summer hours, 

They all have passed away — 
For to the gentle flowers there^s death 
In the chilling touch of his icy breath. 

The North Wind was his herald. 

When he came down from the North, 
It told the news of his coming 

To all that grew on the earth. 
It passed through the mighty forests ; 

It whispered it to the trees ; 
They bowed their heads in sorrow, 

And threw down their wealth of leaves. 
Their leaves, like tears, on the ground they shed 
In memory of the Summer dead. 

Over the hills and valleys. 

Over the lakes and seas, 
Spreading the news of his coming, 

Swept the northern breeze. 
The water heard the tidings. 

And on its placid face 
The sunny smile of gladness 

To a stormy look gave place 5 



16 



For the water was grieved to hear that agaiu 
It was to be bound in an icy chain. 

For it loveth in tbo freedom 

Of the pleasant summer day, 
To leap and sing c'^n* the pebbles ; 

To dance in the fountain's spray; 
To kiss the gentle Sowers 

That grow alonr; the brink, 
And to hear the happy songs 

Of the birds that come to drink. — 
And 'twas sad that the day was coming so soon, 
When no birds would sing and no flowers 
would bloom. 

Across the level praJries, 

Oceans of wavinii: flowers, 
Where the wild bees love to labor 

Through the sunny summer hours, 
Went the herald of the winter, 

And this was what he told : 
" The Winter King is coming, 

Prepare for the time of cold." 
And the prairies felt as the wind passed on, 
That the days of summer were nearly gone. 



n 



Thus o'er the spreading landscape, 

O'er valley, hill and wood ; 
Through the city and the village, 

And in Nature's solitudes, 
Was foretold the coming winter, 

The season of cold and dread. 
When the frozen earth, 'neath ice and snow, 

Would slumber as one dead. 
And so the world learned from the chilling blast 
That the Winter King was coming fast. 

After his chilly herald. 

The Winter King came forth ; 
And with him brought he cold and storm, 

Down from the frozen North. 
Beneath his icy feet 

The frigid earth was still, 
And wrapt in a shroud of white 

Lay valley, plain and hill ; 
For he shook the snow from his locks in the 

night, 
And in the morning the ground was white. 

Now the landscape is bleak and bare, 

No more as in summer hours. 
From the fields comes the balmy air, 

Sweet with the odor of flowers. 



18 



And from the snow-covered lawn 

That lies before the door 
The playing children are gone, 

And I hear their voices no more ;— 
But over the dreary landscape go 
The biting winds and the drifting snow. 

Icicles hang from the eaves — 

There's frost on the window pane, 
And the frozen snow in heaps 

Is drifted across the lane ; 
Deserted, white and bare, i 

Lies the garden before my view, 
And the drifted snow is where 

The flowers in summer-time grew ; 
And all the prospect, bleak and drear, 
Proclaims that the Winter King is here. 

And now when the Winter King 

Is ruling the world without^ 
In my cheerful grate within, 

The flames leap gladly about; 
And watching them upward curl, 

I am sitting secu e and warm, 
While over the snow clad world, 

Are driving the wintry storms ; 



19 



And while I am musing in silence here, 

The voice of the Winter King comes to my esr- 

And I hear the monarch old 

Whispering these words to me, 
Aa if from the north wind cold, 

That sweepeth across the lea : — 
" Down from the frozen North — 

Down from my own bleak home, 
I have come to visit all 

That dwell in this milder zone ; 
And it is at the Mighty One's command, 
That I visit this, your sunny land. 

" I have come to try the hearts 

Of those who in plenty live ; 
For this, the season of cold and want, 

Is the time when they should give ; 
And I a record keep 

Of the deeds of the rich and poor ; 
Alike I know the man of wealth, 

And the beggar at his door ; 
So let all act well 'gainst a final day," 
Said the voice, as it passed on the wind 
awav. 



20 



Then in this stormy time 

Let our hearts be open and warm, 
Nor unaided let us turn 

The suffering into the storm ; 
For the Mighty One hath said, 

" From the needy turn not away j 
And thy bread on the waters cast 

Will return in many days.'' 
And we may by acting well these things, 
Win blessings while stayeth the Winter King, 



21 



WE MAY RISE AGAIN. 



What though troubles do assail nit 

Though misfortuoes arouud us fall, 
Let us over them prevail as 

Men who will not ]}ear their thrall. 
Though our hearts be bowed in sorrow, 

Let us act the part of men, 
Ever hoping that to-morrow 

We may rise again. 

If perchance we have been erring, 

And we feel repentance sore, 
Half onr pain is in deferring 

To resolve to err no more. 
Let us then in the great future, 

Ever act the part of men. 
Knowing that, if we endeavor 

We will rise again. 

Ev'ry heart with love is teeming, 4 
For bright moments in the past, 

In its fondness never dreaming, 
They with care were overcast. 



22 

The present ever hath its trials j 
Duty bids us now meet them t 

Tis not by repining idle 
That we rise again. 

Shill we yied beneath the trials 

That beset our pathway here ? 
Can the shadow on the dial 

Measure our eternal years ? 
No, nor shall our souls immortal, 

Yield tj the troubles, transient, vain; 
We will strive e'en to heaven's portal J. 

There at last we'll rise again* 



^ 



TO ELLEN. 



'Amid the cherished memories of the past, 
As through a softened, rosy-tinted light, 
I see tb««, Ellen, with thy blue eyes bright. 

As when I saw thee last. _ 

Amid the time dimned scenes of long ago, 
.' I see thee decked with ev'ry winning grace ; 

The smile of love and kindness on thy face 
Sheds joy around on all within its glow. 

The memory of thy presence comes to me 
Adown the darkened course of later years, 
As to the storm-tossed mariner appears 

The rising sun at sea. 

And thy sweet influence ever hath the power 
To make me better, worthier of thee ; 
And as my guardian angel ^tis with m© 

This silent, twilight hour. 



24 



GOD MANIFEST IN HIS WORKS. 



Lo I ygnder in the west the sun goes down ; 
Around Lira, fold on fold, the purple clouds 
Of evening are piled. His latest rays 
Obliquely o'er the peaceful landscape fall, 
Crowning with gold the bills The tall old trees 
Bathed in his yellow light, when gently moved ■ 
By the soft ev'ning breeze, bow gracefully 
Their heads majestic, bidding him, as 'twere, 
Good night, ere he amid the purple clouds 
In glory sinks into the glowing west. 

The river like a mirror placid flows, 
Windiog its crooked course between the hills. 
Upon its glassy face no ripple stirs; 
But all is silent in the soft repose 
Of even. From the brink the blades of grass 
And bushes downward bend, and pictured shine, 
Reflected in the limpid stream below. 
How silent, and how peaceful is the hour. 
The woods that erst were vocal with the song 
Of happy birds, beneath the gathering shades 
Of Twilight, now are dumb. The very air 
Seems filled with soft repose, as laden with 



25 



The odor of sweet flowers, it softly comes, 
Breathing of blooming field, of scented haj, 
And all the beauties of the rural scene — . 
All, all is beauty, order, loveliness 1 
And my enraptured soul drinks in the view 
With such delight and joy as none may know. 
Save those vv^ho hold communion with the God 
Of nature through his works The evening sky, 
The placid river, and the silent wood, 
Hath each for me its beauties ; and I see 
In them displayed the wisdom and the love 
Of the great Maker's hand. 

Oh ! with what love 
And admiration warm is swelled my heart 
For Him who made the world so beautifulc 
Oh, who could be a doubter, when around 
On ev'ry side are proijf and evidence 
Of the existence of the Mighty One. 
I wond'ring see the vegetable world 
Absorbing vapors noxious to the life 
Of man and beast, while these in turn exhale 
And furnish food to the green breathing leaves. 
I see this mighty orb, holding its course 
Around the glowing sun, until his light 
And heat mature, in proper time, each plant 
That grows to beautify the blooming world, 
Or food provide for aught that lives therein — - 



26 



Thus seeing that all for each other lire, 
The one supplying what the other wants, 

I know one Mighty Hand hath made them all- 
Designing them in perfect unity, 

As one great whole, to gain the end for which 
He made them. Nobly, too, they work his will, 
So nicely guided by his master haad, 
That not a single atom of the whole 
Great universe but doth its own small share. 
Surely such power and wisdom as are here 
In nature's ever won'drous works displayed, 
Must be divine. One spirit governeth all 
With its fixed laws; it is omnipotent,- 

II ruleth all things well ; it is allwlse ; 
It knoweth all ; it is omniscient. 

It is a God ; its works proclaim it such, 
And from my heart were I to throw away 
My faiih in the all-powerfal ruling One, 
While round me in this beauteous world I see 
So many evidences of the love 
And power and wisdom of a God — in the 
Creations manifold that fill the earth, 
Performing their eternal functions, all 
According to fixed laws — then must I too 
Believe, that from the black primeval gloom, 
Unaided by creative power, the light 
Hath sprung ; that order was of chaos born 
And that wild chance ; hath fixed the 'ternallaws 
That guide the forces of the universe. 



27 



THE BATTLE FIELD OF NEWBERN. 



I'm standing now upon the sacred ground 
Where Newbern for the Uaion was rewon ; 

The silence of the forest reigns around ; 

The combatants have vanished ; all are gone. 

•Of the contending foe there stays not one, 

Save those whose names have swelled the list of 
slain* 

The living all have fled ; the dead alone remain. 

But that the woods are pierced with many soars, 

1 might pass on, nor for a moment deem 
That here in blood had raged th« god of war, 

So quiet and so peaceful is the scene ; 
And yet, within these forest shades hath been 
The deadly conflict thund'ring near and far, 
Until the very earth hath trembled 'ueath its jar. 

I see the foeman's breastworks on the hill— 
The toiling hands that made them, where ar« 
they ? 

The trenches are deserted, all is still, 

And naught remains except the mounds of clay, 



28 



Add they are still the same, as on that day 
When here in deadly strife met hand to hand — 
The friends and enemies of this once prosperous 
land. 

This is the spot on which Carmichael fell. 

In silence near his open grave I pause ; 
The battle tumult was his dyiug knell ; 

In opposition to his country's cause, 
He fighting fell, armed iu a trait'rous cause ; 
And all that now remaineth he're of him. 
Is the rank, loathsome odor of the tomb. 

His grave is open ; love hath followed here 
The fallen soldier, and his friends have claimed 

The right to shed affection's latest tear 
Over his bier at home. So his remains 

Have been removed, but here his blood hath 
stained 

The ground, and here shall live his memory^ 

As one of those who died supporting anarchy. 

And here amid the leaves are narrow mounds. 

I read the humble headboards with a sigh ;■ 
They tell the names of those who here have 
found 

A soldier's grave. They left their homes to die 



29 



la this strange land, with* none but strangers 

nigh. 
.True patriots they, who at their country's call 
Have nobly done their part, have freely given all. 

And here, beneath the withered leaves they lie ; 
Their names obscure the warld hath never 
known ; 
Upon their humble graves no loving eye 
Hath beamed through tears ; no gentle hand 
bath thrown ; 
The flowers of spring. The yellow leaves alone, 
^Stirred by the winds, upon their graves are 

strown ; _■ 

l:And thus in silence and in peace they slumber on. 

Yet many loving hearts have beat for them, 
, And many days of anxious waiting borne ; 
And children oft have asked their mothers when 

Fathers or brothers would again return ; 
Until the mother's heart, in sorrow torn, 
Hath sunk in woe no more to rise again. 
And thus the battle burial-ground contains n_ot 
all the slain. 

Here sleepeth one who hardly had attained 
The years of early manhood. At the call 



so 



Of duty, when his ai^ his country claimeiJ, 

He left his friends, his home, his love, his all> 
Willing in her defence to fight or falK 
He lieth here ; and with him, too, hath died 
A young wife^s happiness, a mother^s pride. 

When o*er the land the blast of war was blowD, 
His heart with patriotic zeal was fired ; 

T'was not for him in ease to stay at home, 
While traitors 'gainst their native land coar 
spired. 

His death was honorable ; be expired 

Doing his duty, striving to restore 

Peace, progress, law and liberty once more* 

He loved his country truly, and in thought 

He traced his father's history again, 
He saw the noble realm their blood had bought, 
Stretching its broad expanse from main to 
main. 
Rich in the products of the hill and plain— 
A land of plenty, where the teeming soil 
Repayeth with rich fruits the lab'rer*8 toil. 

All was his country, from the mighty lakes 
Th^t stretch the northern bonndary along 



ai 



To wbere the briny waves of ocean break 

Upon the southern coast in endless song- 
Should this fair land be spoiled ? right yield to 

wrong ? 
His country from among the nations fall ? 
Become the scofif and by-word of them all ? 

Or should she, in her union ever strong, 

Be separated into petty States, 
Unable to resist a foreign wrong ? 
* The prey of discord and internal hate, 
The very focus where would concentrate 
The horrors of an endless civil strife, 
The foe most deadly to a nation's life ? 

Or should the government that leads the van 

Of human progress, human liberty, 
Be overthrown ? thus proving that there can 

Exist no mighty nation and be free, 
But that the multitude mast ever be 
The tools or slaves of self-appointed lords, 
Who deem the people but a savage horde. 

No, this would never be, if with his life 

He could preserve his country from such fate. 

Thus thought he, and he rushed into the strife ; 
Too much a patriot to hesitate 



32 



When liberty and coantrj were at stake 
He did his part ; he fills an honored grave. 
I mourn him as a patriot true and brave. 
And here beside him in the silent ground 

There sleepeth one who came across the sea: 
Who left his native land in this to found 

Another horastead, where he might be free 
He was industrious, and prosperity 
Had crowned his efforts. So he gave his aid 
The country to defend where he his home had 
made. 

Before his vision rose the mighty west, 

Stretching its fertile acres free and broad— 
A refuge offering to the oppressed 

Of Europe, fleeing from beneath the rod 
Of tyranny at home— a land whose sod 
The foot of despotism never pressed— 
A land with great abundance freely blest. 
Duty and gratitude bade him defend 

The land where he enjoyed a freeman's right, 
Ihat these same privileges might descend 

Down to his children, and to all who mio-ht 
Desire to make their homes beneath the light 
Of mstitutions free, and in a land 
Where merit always can its just reward com. 
mand. 



33 



And thus with noble impulse went he forth 
To battle for his country, nor would stay 
Inactive, while the foeman of the North 

With patricidal hands had joined the fray, 
Madly endeavoring to block the way 
Of human progress, and have overthrown 
The freest nation earth hath ever known. 

And I, a soldier musing o'er his grave, 

Think — as his end was, e'en so mine may be, 

Unless the hand omnipotent to save 

Hath other happier fate reserved for me. 

But stand or fall, my heart is with the free ; 

And truly do I love this glorious land. 

Where sterling worth, not lineage, makes the man. 



34 



A PICTURE. 



A beantiful picture I see, 

Of a suDDy land and fair ; 
Silvery streamlets gleam 

In the pleasant sunlight there. 

And crystal fountains leap 

And dance through the livelong day, 
And the tints of the rainbow shine 

In the drops of falling spray. 

Over the landscape fair 

The sky is ever serene ; 
The hills are decked with flowers, 

And their fertile valleys between. 

And the gentle, balmy wind 
Kisseth the flowers with a sigh, 

And scat'reth their fragrance abroad 
As it softly passeth by. 



35 

The sounds of care and strife 
Are heard not in that land ; 

For they that dwell therein 
Are an ever-happy band. 

As a haven free from storms, 
This peaceful land appears, 

Where I could live in peace 
After the toil of years. 

'Tis of happier future days, 
This beautiful picture I see j 

And the fairy hand of Hope 
Hath painted it for me. 



36 



THANKS. 



For ev'ry blessing that we share, 

Thank God. 
For life and light, for strength and health, 
To toil for bread or fame or wealth 

Thank God. 

For all of peace or joy we know, 

Thank God.' 
For all the gracious gifts he sends, 
Of happy homes, and loving friends, 

Thank God. 

For, ever tender, watchful care, 

Thank God. 
For giving the resisting power 
That saves us in temptation's hour, 

Thank God. 

For being near us everywhere, 

Thank God. 
For being with us in success, 
For aid and comfort in distress, 

Thank God. 



37 



For making this broad world so fair, 

Thank God. 
For sunny skies and fertile plains. 
And waving fields of golden grain, 

Thank God. 

For all the blessings we enjoy 

Thank God. 
For all the joys that here are given, 
And for our hopes of rest in heaven, 

Thank God. 



3S 



GOOD-BYE. 



I have joined the array, Mary ; 

I must DOW bid yon good-bye, 
For our country is in danger, 

And to her aid I fly. 
It grieves my heart to leave you, 

And gladly would I stay ; 
But I hear the call of duty, 

And you know I must obey. 

I'm sure you won't forget me 

When I have gone away ; 
And your prayers will protect me 

In the thickest of the fray ; 
Your image will be with me, 

And the love-light in your eye 
Will be a star of hope for me — ^ 

So, Mary, now good-bye. 



S9 



OUR CHAPLAIN. 



We love our quiet chaplaia ; 

We are glad whea he comes nigh, 
For he always has a word of love 

Whenever he goes by ; 
And we read the goodness of his heart 

In his mildly beaming eye. 

The sick oft feel his kindness, 
When to visit them be comes ; 

With gentle words he comforts them. 
As would their friends at home, 

Far from the toil and strife of war, 
The sound of fifo and drum. 

Like a ministering angel 

He passes in and out, 
And scatters with a tireless hand 

The seeds of life about, 
Trusting that through his Master's grace, 

Some may take root and sprout. 
3 



4Q 



And in the quiet ev'nings. 

Borne on the stilly air, 
The good man^s voice uplifted 

I love to hear in prayer ; 
So I join the throng of worshippers 

And am happy to be there. 

He quietly moves through the camp 

A messenger of grace, 
Lighting the soldier's stormy life- 

With his genial sunny face. 
Until for him his deeds have won 

In ev'ry heart a place. 

And e'er we march to battle 

He offers up a prayer, 
That when the hour of danger comes, 

God may protect us there. 
And that his mighty arm may be 

Our succor everywhere. 

And striving for our welfare, 
He points our souls above. 
And teaches us to place our hopes 
Upon the Saviour's love^ 



41 

As the only sure foundation 
That time can never move. 

God bless our worthy chaplain, 
And grant him length. of days 

To spread abroad the Word of Truth 
In songs of love and praise ; 

For the love his deeds of kindness win 
He will retain always. 



42 
THE ANGEL OF HOPE. 



Oh ! a beautiful sprite is the Angel of Hope ; 

There is life in his sunny smile ; 
With pleasant tales of flow'ry vales, 

Our hearts of care he beguiles. 

When troubles thickly around us fall, 
Till beneath their weight we bend, 

In the darkest hour, with his gentle power. 
He can make our hearts light again. 

To the bed of the suffering invalid, 

Like an angel of mercy he flies ; 
He soothes all pain till hope again 

Beams in the sufferer's eye 

To the patient soldier keeping his watch 
Through the still hoars of the night. 

In silv'ry^tones he speaks of home 
Till his heart beats with delight. 

And he thinks of the dear ones left behind, 

In the homestead far away, 
Till in his heart warm longings start 

For the home returning day. 



48 



And he sees by the light of the angel's smile 
His way through battle and storm, 

Till his warfare o'er, he stands once more, 
At home some sunny morn. 

And all the loved ones he left at home, 

The Angel of Hope visits too, 
And when he speaks, the blood in their cheeks 

Takes a deeper, healthier hue. 

For he comforts their ears with words of hope 

Of the soldier's safe return, 
Till their eyes beam bright with a happy light, 

And their hearts with gratitude burn. 

To the Christian, tossed on life's troubled sea, 
In the midst of the storm he comes^ 

And with the light of his presence bright 
He scatters the murk and gloom. 

He illumes the way to a brighter day, 

When tempests and trials past, 
The striving soul at a brighter goal 

May rest in peace at last. 

And thus the beautiful Angel of Hope 

Speaks words of comfort to all ; 
And wherever he goes he lightens our woea 

Till we see beyond their thrall. 



44 



BE KIND. 



To the poor we meet in the paths of life 
Let us act a friendly part, 

For we know not how little a deed of love 
May raise a drooping heart. 

God knows we have all our share of woe- 
Even those who fare the best, 

How much, then, of mis'ry must they know 
Who are not with abundance blest. 

To the beggar shivering in his rags, 

Who hungry walks the street, 
What joy there would be in a warmer coat, 

Or a morsel of something to eat. 
If we could but feel how his heart would warm 

With gratitude and love, 
I am sure we would oftener aid the poor, 

And deem it a joy to give. 



m 



RAIN. 



Come down, O pearly rain drops f 
Descend ye gentle showers ! 

And deck again in deeper greea 
This parched-up world of ours. 

And with thy cooling touch revive 
The drooping, sun-scorched flowers. 

The streamlet by the way-side 

Is empty now and dry, 
And the shrubs that grow beside it, 

Have bowed their heads to die ; 
Tired looking up in vain to see 

Ye coming from the sky. 

How withered, dry and lifeless. 

The meadows all appear ; 
The waving grass that erst was green 

Is yellow now and sear. 
As if the autumn time of death 

Already had beea here. 



4$ 

The daz'ling heat of summer^ 

Is in the very air ; 
The earth looks dry and thirsty. 

Beneath the sun's hot glare, 
And the voice of nature calls ye, 
O, rain drops, eveyAvhere. 

Pour out thy wat'ry treasures 

Upon the dusty ground ; 
For I love to see the crystal drops 

Chasing each other down. 
Until they strike the broad green leaves 

With merry pattering sound. 



41 



THE WATCEERS. 



Along the RappahaDnock — 
Along Potomac's shore, 

A band of faithful watchers 
Are watching evernaore. 

The old and silent forest — 
The foul and noisome swamp 

Feels the measured cadence 
Of their ceaseless tramp. 

The stilly hour of midnight — 
The noonday's burning glare, 

Finds them ever watching, 
Watching ev'rywhere. 

Along the Southern boundary, 
Tireless watch they keep — 

Sentinels of freedom, 
Eyes that never sleep. 



48 

In the Northern homesteads, 
All the country o'er, 

A band of faithful watchers 
Are watching evermore. 

Loving hearts are beating 
With affection warm, 

Ever fondly waiting 

For their friend's return.' 

Oh ! the fruitless watching I 
And the hopeless pain 

Of the hearts now breaking — 
Breaking for the slain. 

When will the Great Ruler, 
Who keeps watch and ward 

Over all, relieve these 
Sufferers on guard ? 

When will peace descending 
Bless our land once more, 

And to all now guarding 
Happmess restore ? 



49 



BEFORE THE BATTLE. 






Before the battle with anxious heart, 
The soldier waits to act his part ; 

And rapidly an endless train 

Of burning thoughts sweeps through his brain. 

He thinks of the present, he thiniis of the past, 
And the future with danger overcast. 

He thinks of scenes remembered well, 
When loved companions fought and fell. 

He thinks of the danger he has gone through, 
And his grateful prayers arise anew. 

And he prays that again the Protecting Power 
Maybe his shield in the trying hour. 

He thinks of home — he thinks of friends, 
And wonders if he will see them again. 

For he knows that in the coming strife 
Will flow the crimson tide of life, 

And that many an eye now beaming bright 
Will be dim in death e'er falls the night. 

That many a heart now beating, warm 
Will have ceased to beat e'er another morn. 



60 



That mfiny a voice of joyous tone 

Will be heard no more by friends at home. 

That many a young and manly form 
Will sink beneath the leaden storm. 

That many a one will sigh in vain, 
And mourn the absence of the slain^ — 

The slain whose footsteps novermore 
Will turn towards the uld home door. 

He looks upon the blooming world, 
Her vernal beauties all unfurled. 

The glorious sun, the cloudless skies, 
With tranquil splendor bless his eyes. 

Then memory with her magic art ' 
Opens the fountains of his heart. 

On such a balmy day in spring, 
When earliest birds begin to sing. 

Yes it was on just such a day, 
He left the old home far away. 

The beauties of the landscape, all 
The well remembered scenes recall. 

All nature smiling now as then, 
Brings buck the parting hour again. 



51 



And now what thoughts his bosom swell, 
'Tis not for tongue or pen to tell. 

His eye is moist as with a tear ; 
His head is bowed, but not with fear. 

All thoughts of battle's strife and pain 
Have vanished from the soldier's braia. 

Forgotten every toil and care, 
Which 'tis the soldier's lot to bear. 

And memories of the peaceful past 
Come crowding round him thick and fast. 

He clasps again his parent's hands ; 
The maid he loves beside him stands. 

And all the scenes his heart holds dear 
In vivid colors reappear. 

No wonder that his eyes grow dim, 
Such tender memories visit him. 

Ko thought of self in danger's hour 
Could bow his spirit 'neath its power. 

But yields his heart beneath the sway 
Of love for dear ones far away. 

And now he stands while every thought 
With love and tenderness is fraught. 

Bat hark I npon the air of morn 
The cannon's opening roar is borne. 



52 



The iron-throated gods of war 
Answer each other near and far. 

Dense clouds of sulphurous smoke arise, 
And dim the glory of the skies. 

Long lines of glittering musketry 
Sweep forward, eager for the fray. 

And solid masses onward surge, 
With bayonets fixed to join the charge. 

While through the canopy ot smoke 
Peels out the bugle's stirring note. 

And brave hearts waken to the strife, 
For country, victory and life. 

Where peaceful nature smiled before, 
Now frowns the dreadful face of war. 

Of moving thousands sounds the tread; 
The silence of the scene is fled. 

No longer to the soldier come 
Heart-softening memories of home. 

His eyes flash out a brighter light ; 
His heart is warm with strange delight. 

The sabre's flash, the cannon's roar 

Have roused his slumbering soul once more. 

And every tender feeling gone, 
Impatient — he would be led on. 



53 



THE FLAa. 



Who will defend the good old flaj^— 
The proudly floating, starry flag — 
The flag that heroe's hands unfurled, 
Proclaiming freedom to the world — 

The chosen banner of the free — 
The proudly floating, starry flag, 

Honored on every land and sea ? 

Who will defend the^good old flag — 
The proudly floating, starry flag, 
That waved amid the battle's smoke, 
When tyranny's cursed chains were broke — 

The loved escutcheon of the free — 
The proudly floating, starry flag. 

Beneath whose folds sits liberty ? 

Who will defend the good old flag — 
The proudly fl; ating, starry flag, 
Fraught with such memories of the past, 



54 I 

I 

When noble patriots rising fast 

Were gathered round that banner old— 

That proudly floating, starry flag — 
To win their freedom 'neath its folds ? 

Who will defend the god old flag — 

The proudly floating, starry flag — 

'Gainst open or 'gainst hidden blow 

Of treacherous friend or open foe, | 

Till blessed with peace on every hand, | 
The proudly floating, starry flag 

In triumph shall wave o'er the land ? 



65 



SOLDIER'S CAREER. 



In the mornidg a soldier was blithe and gay, 
Merrily singing a joyous lay. 

At night he was stiff and cold in his gore^ 
His duty performed, his warfare o'er. 

la a month the grass was green on his grave, 
And earth had forgotten the name of the brave. 



0^ 



56 



TO LAKE MICHIGANc 



How often have I wandered on thj shore, 

O mighty Lake, 
And listened to the music of the roar 

Thy waters make ? 

How often, when the moon with silvery sheen 

Thy wavelets crowned, 
Have I in silence gazed upon the scene 

Of beauty round ? 

1 loved, when gentle Luna ruled the world, 

Alone to stand. 
And watch thy undulating waters hurled, 

Upon the strand. — 

To hear the endless song thy wavelets sang 

Forevermore, 
Like dreamy voices from a far-off land — 

An unknown shore. 



57 



'Raptured I listenq^ to the Siren tale, 
They murmuring told 

Of vanished races, till I longed to sail 
To countries old. 



For gazing 'long the far horizon's verge, 

Far as the eye 
Could reach, I saw thy rolling billows merge 

Into the sky. 

Beyond, imagination filled the scene 

From history's page, 
With heroes and their deeds that have not been 
For many an age. 

I saw old cities with their domes and spires 

Stately uprise, 
And altars whence the smoke of sacred fires 

Had sought the skies. 

And crumbling towers, and palaces an d thrones 
Of other days, [showDj 

Where once the power and pride of earth had 
And held their sway. 



58 



And musing thus, I longed to pass beyond 

Thj farther shore, 
'Cross other seaj to lands renowned in song 

And history's lore. 

And I have gone ; my wandering steps have traced 
For many a day [strangers placed 

A wayward course ; I've been a stranger among 
From home away. 

Until ray heart has leaned with love to yearn 

Again to se^ 
The friends and scenes whose meniories living burn 

Cherished by me. 

And now, mighty Lake were I but where 

Thy clear waves come 
I'd send sweet words ot love thy bosom o'er 

To those at home. 






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